Have You Ever?
by ShortNotVerticallyChallenged
Summary: The war was lost, but they had to hold onto hope. When Hermione decides to travel back in time to fix things, it doesn't quite go the way that she had hoped.


**A/N:** **I literally own nothing. Please enjoy and let me know if you enjoyed it/want more.**

 **Chapter One: Have You Ever Lost a War?**

The terror of the last year hadn't prepared Hermione Granger for war. Instead it had taught her that there was no way that you could prepare for a war. There was no way to prepare for the atrocities that came along with it. Her time spent with Ron and with Harry hunting for horcruxes had not prepared her. Breaking into Gringotts and riding a dragon had not prepared her. Being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange had not prepared her. The deaths of love ones before now hadn't been enough to prepare her.

The castle was in ruins, certain walls blown down during the fight. They themselves had blown up a bridge in an attempt to slow the death eaters down.

Standing in the Great Hall she looked over all the bodies. Remus, Tonks, Lavender, Colin, Fred… they were only some of the eighty or more dead. Hermione could have counted to be certain, but she didn't want to know right now.

Ron was mourning with the rest of his family, as Hermione sat still, just waiting for what would happen. It seemed like hours since Harry had left, and she couldn't help but worry about the boy that had been family to her since she was eleven years old, after he had saved her from a troll. Luna had sat herself near Hermione, and while Hermione usually didn't like Luna, right now Luna was comforting her better than any one else could. The younger witch sat silently near her, knowing that nothing she could say would comfort Hermione. The muggleborn also knew that, in her own way, Luna was also worried about Harry.

"Harry Potter is dead-" a chilling voice rang throughout Hogwarts. Hermione couldn't believe it, unable to hear anything as those words echoed through her mind. Her feet carried her to the courtyard, sprinting as fast as she could. A scream caught her attention, though she couldn't tell who it belonged to. The manic laughter in response to the pain was recognisable though. In fact it was so distinct Hermione knew that it would haunt her for the rest of her life, no matter how long or short it would be.

It had been in her mind ever since the day Sirius Black had been murdered by his insane cousin.

Pushing her way through the other survivors that were still present, the brunette finally broke away from the crowd, her eyes falling on the body in Hagrid's arms. Screams and shouts were audible, though she didn't know which were hers. Shifting she went to run forwards to reach Harry, to see him. Because he couldn't be dead. There was no way that he could be dead.

An arm trapped her, pulling her backwards though she had no clue exactly who it was that was trying to hold her back. Mind still focussed on getting to her friend she struggled, shouts still ripping their way from her throat.

"Hermione! There's nothing you can do! Think about it! Come on Hermione, you're smarter than this," a voice was getting through to her. The struggling stopped, though the moment that the person in question had let go the seventeen year old had dropped to the ground, sobbing.

None of this was meant to happen.

Hermione Granger was not naïve. She knew that war wouldn't be victimless. She'd learnt that from Sirius, Dumbledore, Moody and Dobby before the war had begun. But she had not expected that they would actually lose the war. The witch hadn't thought that she would see her best friend die during this war.

All of a sudden she was moving, her mind catching up and registering that she had been grabbed and pulled away. Lights firing different ways alerted her that the fighting had started again.

Now they were fighting to their deaths, no hope remaining for any success. They were hopelessly outnumbered and the chosen one was dead. A few cracks alerted her that some were trying to run, to escape to go elsewhere. Maybe to the European continent to continue the fight there, or perhaps America which was still strong.

Brown eyes looked up to whoever it was that had dragged her inside, depositing her somewhere that she wasn't going to die immediately.

Neville Longbottom.

The boy looked worse for wear, definitely having suffered numerous injuries. A glint in his eyes told Hermione that he wasn't finished fighting yet though. Those eyes also showed concern for his friend. It touched her heart that even in this moment, where he had found to courage to fight against all odds, he still took the time to care for friends.

"Hermione, you have to get yourself together," he'd told her seriously. Hermione nodding slightly, still numb, still in shock. "Get yourself together and keep fighting or get out of here, alright?"

"Where's Ron?" she asked softly, voice cracking. Neville gave her a pitying look. Her heart sank immediately. "But I just saw him…"

"He charged in Hermione, restarted the fighting…" the other Gryffindor said softly, causing her to just feel nauseous. First Harry, then Ron… who else had died in the time that she was struggling to get herself together?

A look of determination suddenly crossed her face, the witch forcing herself to her feet, grabbing Neville's hand and dragging him towards the stairs. Beginning the ascent she tried to move quickly, throwing any spells she could think of at Death Eaters that seemed to have the two Gryffindors in their sights.

When they finally arrived at their destination Neville stopped, looking at her. He was tired, unsure what she was doing.

"Hermione, we're at war, we don't have time to go through books," he tried to reason, though he followed her into the library despite that. Somehow, despite the war raging on throughout the castle the library had managed to escape much damage.

"I think I know a way to fix this," she'd called back.

"How can you fix it Hermione?" he'd questioned, following after her despite his doubts. "It's already happened. They're dead. It's over."

Hermione had ignored him, entering the restricted section which she had grown familiar with throughout her time at Hogwarts. While a significant amount of it was dedicated to the dark arts, there were also all the records of magic that tied to the old religion. Knowledge so old that it had practically been forgotten.

Fingers racing over the spines of the book covers, she found the one she was after in the exact same spot that she had last seen it nearly two years earlier. Mind racing she flipped the book open, trying to reach page fifty-six as quickly as she possibly could.

Having found it, she showed the results of her search to Neville, who's blue eyes quickly scanned over the page she offered.

"Time travel? Hermione you can't be serious…" at that moment the sound of an explosion near by rocked them, reminding them of the ongoing war.

"If we pull this off, we can stop all of this before it's ever happened Neville," she argued, voice soft, just in case the death eaters were close to catching up.

"It's also a type of magic that hasn't been used in centuries… this is the type of magic that doesn't use a wand. It'll drain the magic straight out of your core, and unless you've secretly been practicing using it, something this big could kill you," he'd countered, looking concerned at the thought of everything that could happen.

"And if we don't we've anyway lost the war and we're going to die anyway."

That comment did it. The look of defeat on Neville's face told her that that little reminder was enough to kick him into action once again, to help her when it came to this impossible task that she was proposing.

Another explosion echoed through the library, this time the two teenagers were certain that it was just outside the library, perhaps even already inside. Still the two of them had to return to open space to cast the foreign spell.

"Accio chalk," Hermione had whispered, the desired material flying towards her. She caught the small item without a second thought, casting another spell on it to form a perfect, and rather large circle around them. A figure had shown up at that moment, Neville throwing a spell of his own to quickly disarm them before he cast a spell to immobilise them.

"I'll take care of anyone that comes in, you stay focused on the spell," he'd practically ordered, Hermione complying as she propped the book up on one arm and began reciting the spell. It was in a language that perhaps she might not have known, had she not gone to McGonagall and asked to learn the history, asked to learn some of the basics of this history.

That was going to have to pay off. Hermione needed it to pay off in this moment. Failure clearly wasn't an option.

Neville continued duelling other death eaters that seemed to have realised that at least some of their enemies had holed themselves up in the library. They were probably excited by that, the fact that they'd taken themselves to a place and were backed up in a corner, no possible escape routes available.

A curse hit Neville, a thud indicating that he hit the ground. A laugh showing that they were proud of the spell they cast. Another curse was thrown towards Hermione, but before it could hit her eyes glowed gold and the two teenagers disappeared.


End file.
